When I was a younger man, 20 years ago now, I was just 68 and I lost my wife. That same year Edna lost her husband. She was 81 or 82 at the time. Our houses were across the street from one another. She's gone now but I remember her well. I enjoyed her company as she did mine. We always found things to talk about. Our relationship kept the wolves of loneliness at bay and illumined the approaching darkness that would spell the end of our twilight years. And as it turned out, she retained a lively interest in and enjoyment of sex.
Edna was still in decent shape for her age but her years showed. She kept her hair strawberry blond and maintained with weekly coiffures. But her face, once comely, was replete with lines as though it had been crumpled like a piece of paper and then smoothed out but the creases still showed. Her ass had lost more than a little of the firm roundness of earlier years and flattened a bit. Of course she had put on some weight over the years and had five children so she had a matronly belly; not folded over mind you but rather an inviting mound of warm soft flesh. It overshadowed her pubic mound and fulsome vulva, naughty parts that turned out to be deliciously plump and pleasing once I gained a purchase on them; having worked through Edna's initial nerves and indecision.
As far as I could tell she still had all her faculties. You may think she had become a bit addled; goodness, at her age to read how we came to enjoy and gratify each other. Fortunately she had the constitution of an ox. We never had penis penetration intercourse. I couldn't because I'd had my prostate removed and could no longer gain more than a semi-hard phallus. Her vagina understandably had thinned and become less moist than when excited in her earlier years. But she showed me that a woman in her eighties could orgasm; orgasms of squirming, thrusting intensity that left her sweaty and satiated.
The secret to Edna's stunning and fiercest orgasms lay in her ever-beckoning and keenly sensitive over-sized nipples; nipples that adorned glorious matronly breasts.
Despite the wear and tear of her age, Edna had three physical attributes, or should I say five that stood out; her lovely and delicate feet, her ample and exquisite breasts with such fulsome nipples and her inviting vulva and clitoris. As our relationship deepened I found that she loved to have these body parts caressed, fondled, rubbed, patted, kissed, licked and sucked. I happily did them all.
But it was my increasingly overt admiration of her breasts that brought us intimately together. That really is the focus of my story so let us turn our attention to the first exquisite time I attended her beautiful breasts.
We had lived across the street from one another for at least 15 years when death made us both single after very long marriages. Edna and Jim, her late husband, were neighbors who became friends. As time passed I would see Edna enjoying the day sitting on her front porch. She never wore dresses; always a pair of slacks and a blouse or sweater. She dressed her age. Since there was nothing to fire the imagination to be seen below the waist, what with loose fitting slacks, but over time, as we visited periodically I became conscious that she was generously endowed.
One day when we were chatting about nothing worth mentioning and my gaze dropped to her chest. I willed myself to look up and return to eye contact. This went on for several cycles up, down, up, down and up. Edna obviously became aware that I could not restrain myself from ogling her prominent breasts. I say obviously because she reacted; not in any overt or vocal way. She continued to chat. But her nipples began to obtrude and grew until two remarkably pronounced nubbins showed in her sweater. A slight smile came to her lips. Our dialogue continued for a few more minutes. At one point she moved her hand to her chest resting her fingers lightly on her sweater. For a moment I thought she was going to succumb to an urge to caress one of those turgid nipples. But she just let her fingers slip down a bit then removed her hand. I did not, could not grow erect, but blood did flow to my penis and my anxious glans tingled.
After that day I saw Edna as a woman with a definite sexual dimension and no longer viewed her as merely a pleasant old lady who lived across the street. Time passed. Edna and I developed an unacknowledged charade with one another. One of us would initiate an impromptu mailbox meeting or a neighborly sit down visit. Then we would work our way through another session of thinly veiled erotic teasing. I caressed her tits with my warm gaze and her body invariably responded; producing those two remarkable and very erect nipples; they strained against a substantial bra and outer garment to an extent that they were clearly apparent despite the confining layers of fabric. We would smile at one another; sometimes enhancing our arousals with some sort of innuendo or mild double-entendre. I might say, "It's always pleases me to see you. Are you up for a little conversation?" Or, "I've enjoyed being with you today (pause) I mean something always comes up... I mean to talk about." Edna might remark, while standing up from her rocker, "There, I'm up again. Now I'll have to go in and take care of things." I came to learn later just what she meant.
Edna and I grew comfortable with one another, visiting on her front porch when it was not too hot and humid; our sessions growing more frequent as time passed. When one of us happened to be out the other would find some reason to go outside also. There was no formality; no calling up and making a date or dining together. Always in the background was this mutually pleasant sensuality; not a buzz of excitement but a soft hum of titillation. We chatted so much in our rocking chair sessions that we covered a broad gamut of topics learning much about each other's lives and thoughts; until one day she opened the door to a remarkable new level of intimacy.
* * *
We sat together as we so often did. "Kenneth you remind me of an old saying," she remarked with a little smile.
"Huh," I cleverly responded. "What old saying is that?"
"Men quit thinking about 'it,' about 15 minutes after the last shovel of dirt is tossed onto their graves."
I knew "it" was sex but I said, "What 'it' is that?"
She said, with laughter in her voice, "Oh, you know quite well what "it" I'm talking about; 'It' is sex. You certainly think about sex." Some color rose in her cheeks and I could see a flush rising in her neck. More evident of her tense excitement was the erection of her two nipples that now roused and elongated. Despite the substantial bra she wore to cantilever her ample breasts, before my eager eyes her surging nipples produced those mouth watering protrusions once more; yes hidden and restrained by her garments, outer and within, but nevertheless palpably revealing Edna 's stimulation.
I did not hesitate to pursue the path down which she appeared to beckon. "What makes you think I am preoccupied with sex?"
"Now Kenneth," Edna said, "I know, have known for decades that men like my breasts and they are always fondling them with their eyes. You do it too. Tut, yes you do. When we are talking you can't keep your eyes on my face. You're always peeking down at my big breasts."
I said, "I'm glad you brought this out into the open Edna. It could not have been easy. I admit I have come to enjoy gazing at your tits...um, your breasts and the flirty innuendo we've indulged in. I've gained a strong impression that you've been pleased with my ogling; that you've not been offended."
"You've enjoyed watching my nipples become erect like they are now, haven't you?" She brought her hands up and rested her fingers lightly on the top of each inviting mound.
"Oh, yes. Very much," I answered. Warmth spread in my groin. With difficulty I stayed my hand from reaching into my crotch to squeeze my dick. I hoped the shimmering vision I thought I could see ahead would be an oasis in the desert of my sex life.
Edna clearly had taken a decision and she hurried on now; seemingly anxious to get past her opening gambit; lest some repressed inner voice restrain her from continuing and prevent her throwing wide open the entrance to the path down which she now invited me.
"Jim loved my breasts, 'titties,' he called them," she went on. "And I loved to have him suck on my nipples. Goodness, I could actually have orgasms by the things Jim did without even putting his penis in me."
This explicit sex talk stimulated and aroused me greatly. She briefly fondled her nipples and smiled at me with a mix of girlish demureness and mischief in her warm gaze.
My throat was suddenly dry and constricted but I managed to croak out, "I'd like to hear about that."
